


Lay Down Your Burden, Take Up Your Banner

by wraisedbywolves



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Gen, Permanent Injury, Trespasser DLC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 21:30:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8506096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wraisedbywolves/pseuds/wraisedbywolves
Summary: After the final confrontation with Solas, Iohanna does what she feels must be done--both in the field and in the council chambers





	

**Author's Note:**

> While the depiction is not graphic, this does start with some severe violence

When Iohanna staggered out through the last mirror, the scents of rot and death hung heavy around her armor-shrouded form. Cassandra was the first to rush forward, trying to steady her commander--no, her  _ friend _ \--as she collapsed to the ground. Sweat beaded Iohanna’s brow and had soaked through the kerchief around her neck, and her left arm hung heavy and slack at her side. The armor she wore hid it well, and Cassandra thought that perhaps she had chosen it for that reason, but something was clearly wrong.   
  
“Cassandra--” the Inquisitor gasped, her breathing labored. “Help me. Hel--help me get this off.”

The Seeker hauled her over to a stone bench, one end ruined by some great violence, and eased her to a sitting position before beginning to fumble with the straps that bound the pauldron, vambrace, and gauntlet to her arm. The rest of the group was in an uproar, some trying to help and others watching for further attack. Finally, between Cassandra and Varric, they managed to loosen everything and pull the armor away, revealing the angry, infected flesh beneath.

The sickly green glow was gone, but now it was clear what had been hidden by its light. The hand that had been marked by the Breach was all but useless now, and angry red infection and horrifying black streaks racing along the conduits formed by vein and muscle from the center of Iohanna’s palm to just above her elbow. The flesh of her arm seemed to pulse and jump of its own volition, and the Inquisitor gritted her teeth against the pain as it spasmed against the stone.

“Oh, that looks bad,” whispered Sera, her face twisted by a look of disgust and fear.

“What do you need us to do, Boss?” Bull asked, refusing to recoil from the sight of what the raw magic of the Fade had done to her.

“I need--aauh!” she cried out in pain, shaking violently as her fingers spasmed again. “Cassandra, stay where you are. Keep me steady.”

Cassandra nodded vigorously, holding Iohanna’s shoulders with calloused hands but unable to banish the fear from her eyes.

“Blackwall--Thom, here,” she sucked a hissing breath between her teeth, but bit back another cry. “Pin down my hand.”

He came around the bench and did as he was told, even though he was worried about hurting her further. Holding the hand still seemed more difficult than it should have been as it jumped like an independent living thing under his gloved fingers.

Another tremor shook Iohanna’s whole body. “And Bull, come--come around here,” she whispered, her eyes squeezed shut. “I need you take it off. As high as you have to to get it all.”

“Iohanna! You cannot--” Cassandra gasped.

“I can and I will,” Iohanna snapped. “Keep me steady.”

“Boss, this is gonna hurt,” Bull murmured, but he was already taking his sword from its sheath. Iohanna forced a humorless laugh, but she was relieved. She knew she could count on him to do what was needed without delaying to ask questions. She wasn’t sure that even this would be fast enough, but it had to be worth trying.

Whatever else he might be, the Iron Bull was good at what he did. With Cassandra and the Warden holding their leader still, he found a point just above her elbow that was free of corruption and lined up the edge of his blade with that spot. The clean arc of the sword seemed to capture it at every point along the way, the images of the silver blade seeming to multiply like the rays around the eye of the Seekers. When the blade met flesh the latter parted cleanly, even the bone. The sickening crack of it, echoed by a scream trapped behind Iohanna’s gritted teeth, was a sound no one would forget. The deed was done.

After that, Iohanna had a hard time keeping events in their proper order. She saw Cassandra, white-faced and wide-eyed, shaking but still supporting her, and Vivienne snapping instructions to everyone else, but she wasn’t sure what the instructions were. At some point Dorian stepped up and apologized, tears threatening, as he summoned up a handful of fire and shaped it into a delicate sheet of flame to press against the bleeding stump where her arm had been, cauterizing the wound as much as he could without during further harm. 

Sera must have come later, with strips of colorful silks and brocade from her clothes and her bag to wrap tightly over the scorched flesh to stop the bleeding. She was swearing loudly the entire time, but her hands were surprisingly steady. Then they debated, in words that sounded to Iohanna like the distant rumble of thunder, about whether to keep her still or take her back to Halamshiral.

Someone must have won the argument, for she was jolted to some semblance of consciousness when Bull picked her up as delicately as he could and laid her limp form carefully over one broad shoulder. She found it odd that nothing hurt anymore, and wondered if that meant she was dying after all, despite everyone’s best efforts. The jolt and sway as Bull walked carefully over the shattered stone all around them reminded her of the rocking of a ship on the Waking Sea, and she drifted back away from the world.

 

* * *

 

She came to more slowly the second time, still not sure who was speaking or what they were saying. Her first impression was that she was back in Skyhold, looking up at the rich red and gold hangings of her own bed, but the scent of a brazier filled with cloying herbs didn’t match up properly. She liked to keep a window open in her rooms to let in a breath of the sharp, cold mountain air. Josephine would never let someone--

Josephine.

Iohanna struggled to push aside any other musings in favor of regaining control of her body, desperate find out where she was and, more importantly, whether Josephine knew she was there.

She tried to sit up, but succeeded only in thrashing weakly back and forth against a thick bolster someone had placed to support her shoulders.

“Hush, hush my darling!” cried a familiar voice, and Iohanna fell still with a labored sigh. Josephine must be nearby. She heard the soft pat of her lover’s slippers against a thick rug and then Josephine was at her side, leaning over a bed that could only be in the Winter Palace and reaching out to cup Iohanna’s cheek with a gentle hand. 

“Lie still, my love. The healers say you must rest.” Josephine leaned down over the bed and her face, along with the subtle scent of her perfume, filled Iohanna’s senses so that nothing in the room beyond seemed real. Iohanna pulled her mouth into a shaky smile, hoping to soothe some of the worry from Josephine’s face even as she noted the dark smudges of sleeplessness under her eyes. She had been up all night--at least one night, perhaps longer. 

“There, there, stay still,” said Josephine, reaching out to take Iohanna’s right hand between both of hers as though to reassure herself that this was real. “Can I bring you anything? Are you warm enough? Does it… Do you need a healer?”

Iohanna flexed her fingers weakly between Josephine’s hands. “Just… just stay here with me,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. Her throat felt raw and scorched. She thought it was probably from screaming, and found the thought strangely detached and distant. She could feel the threat of pain hovering over her, but for the moment she couldn’t feel much of anything. Josephine pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down, then took Iohanna’s hand again. 

The door was guarded by Inquisition soldiers, and Josephine explained that she had been tended by their own people once she had been brought back of the Winter Palace. Stitches was her primary attendant aside from Josephine. What he lacked in bedside manner was more than made up for by his deft hands and eye for trouble. He seemed pleased with the way the remainder of her arm was healing, and announced on the third day that there was no apparent sign of infection and that as battlefield amputations went, she could have done worse.

On the fourth day, still the guests of a wary and rather strained Exalted Council, the Inquisition’s chief figures assembled in Iohanna’s room. She insisted on holding the meeting, even though she had to keep one hand on a high-backed chair to keep her feet. Along with Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen, she invited Cassandra, Varric, Dorian, and Vivienne--or rather, Divine Victoria--to hear the plan she had spent her bedridden days formulating. She didn’t like leaving the rest of her inner circle out of it, but there simply wasn’t enough room in the small, stifling chamber for everyone and these were the ones whose resources and influence would be most needed.

“I must admit, I was rather blindsided by Solas’s… new breed of madness. I had always thought highly of him, though we rarely saw eye to eye. Despite apparent remorse, he appears set on pursuing this path of destruction, and I’m afraid we may not be prepared for what he has in mind. To that end, we must escape the constraints of the current political situation so that we can adjust as needed to respond to this new threat. I believe that the best, and certainly quickest, way to have our resources back at our own disposal without the chokehold of Orlais or antagonism of Ferelden is to give them what they want.

“The Inquisition, as a political and military entity, will be disbanded.”

Protest erupted immediately, and Iohanna let their objection wash over her. Only Leliana and Josephine, with whom she had already discussed the matter, remained silent.

“My dear, it may sound easy, but you cannot afford to show weakness,” said Vivienne, though she was frowning thoughtfully as she considered the implications.

“I don’t like to lose, but I’d rather lose face here than lose all the good we’ve done by letting Solas get away with whatever he has in mind.”

“After all we’ve done, everyone’s hard work and the sacrifices they’ve made--” said Cassandra.

Iohanna smiled sadly at her. “I know. We’ve all given a great deal to the Inquisition, and some of our people have given everything. That is why we must do everything we can to secure a future for them, and to prevent Solas’s madness from spreading any further. We’ll be most able to do that without Orlais and Ferelden scrutinizing our every move and clamoring for a say in each decision. Remember how it was at Haven, before anyone knew or cared who we were? We accomplished so much in those days. If we disband, then individually approach the people we can trust completely, we can perhaps regain some of that flexibility.”

“It’s... not a bad plan, all things considered,” Dorian admitted, rubbing his chin. “You’ll have to leave Skyhold, of course, and disperse somewhat, in order to sell it. Perhaps I could return with a few volunteers from the scouts and spies among my staff, to set up eyes and ears in Minrathous.”

“That would be an excellent start.” Iohanna nodded. “We’ve already seen the beginning of it-- I suspect that before he makes his move, Solas will want to gather all of the elves he can in some hidden location to avoid harm. They’ve already begun to disappear. Here, and in Ferelden, and in the Free Marches, elves can simply leave. Their absence may be noted, but most can travel freely if they keep their heads down. But in Tevinter…”

“He would have to arrange some major chaos to get elvhen slaves out in large numbers,” said Varric. “So you think he’s likely to strike there first?”

“I think we need to gather more information, but it would be a good plan for him,” she agreed.

“I can brief a few key agents to send along.” Leliana was smiling.

“Then I’ll make the announcement before the Exalted Council tomorrow. Cassandra, will you go over the original writ from Divine Justinia with me tonight? I want to remind them of who we are.”

“Of course, Inquisitor. Let me fetch the book.”

**Author's Note:**

> Curious about Iohanna? Here's a quick summary image of what she's all about: http://wraisedbywolves.tumblr.com/image/129709959982


End file.
